Zombies and the Like
by greenpineapple
Summary: According to the dictionary a zombie is a person who acts lifeless, unaware of his surroundings, and seems to lack feelings. Can you blame someone for acting like a zombie sometimes? This takes place in between the two books. It follows Cas on an ordinary day following the wake of the first book. The story is better than the summary.


**I just read this series and read both books in less than twenty-four hours because I stayed two consecutive nights finishing them (and then I was unable to turn off the lights because I don't handle horror very well : P ).**

**This has quickly managed to infiltrate the ranks of my favorite book series and as such has also been able to break my writing fast (stupid inspiration, or lack of).**

**Anyways, this takes place between the two books and hints toward what happens in both. You have been warned.**

**I hope Cas isn't too ooc but he might be, sorry ahead of time. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Cas or Anna or the book, my name is not Kendare Blake just in case you were wondering.**

**Enjoy**

_"__Cassio"_

_A voice whispers through the forest that encompasses me, a voice I would recognize anywhere, anytime._

_ "__Anna! Where are you?"_

_My exclamation echoes through the leaves that are shedding their summer apparel as I watch; greens fading the shriveling to browns and rusty oranges before my wavering eyes. I pivot but her silhouette is absent; neither running from tree to tree in a game of hide-n'-seek or leaning against one of the trunks in the shade. All I see is haunting bone-white birch saplings dwarfed by staggering birch monstrosities. I need to look for her, something is driving me forward. I start to run but my legs feel like they were stuffed with lead and so I stumble forwar sluggish pace._

_"__ANNA!"_

_My desperate voice trembles as I slump forward. I'm searching and calling, my feet sore and my eyes stinging from lack of rest but I continue my vigil until my throat is coarse from yelling and I feel as though I will collapse._

_I stop and sink to my knees. My eyes water._

_"__Anna…"_

_The dead leaves start to fall, covering me with a cold dead blanket and then a cold laugh that belongs in the deepest pit of Hell sounds from behind me along with the sickly sweet smell of smoke. Then I hear a high pitch animalistic scream._

"Anna!" I gasp as I shoot upright in my seat. My lungs are working overtime and as I slump forward, my head in my hands, I notice my skin is covered in a slick layer of sweat and my shirt is sticking to my back. Taking a deep breath I open my eyes and reconnect with my surroundings.

I'm in my mom's car, parked in front of the plot of land that used to contain _her_ house. After that fateful night the town sent a team of workers to clear up the debris and so all that remains is a pale patch of dirt and weeds. But even after three months, whenever I am drawn here but before I turn onto the drive I can picture the house leering at me as though it will still be there. And when I pull up I would see her pale beautiful face illuminated in the window of her savage ghostly face surrounded by tentacles of dark hair entwining and coiling. But then I turn the corner and the empty land stops my heart like no other foe had been able to.

It's remaining and as the drops patter eerily on the metal shell of the car I slowly, unwillingly recall that in a haze I had driven over like I so often do when I can no longer stand being with my friends and mother.

Despite Morfran's steadfast refusal of their existence, what I resemble most of the time is a zombie. One of the only variations is when I am with Carmel and Thomas in public. At that point my "I'm-not-driving-myself-crazy-thinking-about-my-twice-dead-girlfriend" mask comes out to make an appearance. Usual they buy it but as soon as their attention waver on me, usually due to some petty argument, and I forget for a second to look interested Carmel notices. Her face puckers up as though she just ate a lemon while Thomas looks sympathetically on.

The only other change is when for no apparent reason my heart starts of pump too fast and my leg starts to bounce. My eyes twitch and my breath comes fast as adrenaline pumps through my system. I need to DO SOMETHING. Even if it is just running through my neighborhood or doing wind sprints in my backyard. This is worse because Mom always looks so harried, but there is nothing I can do to ease her pain, I'm too busy trying to numb mine.

Because the truth is, time isn't helping, it's making it worse. Every day, hour, MINUTE, that I don't know whereshe is, is one more second that she could be in pain. Carmel doesn't understand, even though she tries. Even Thomas doesn't get it although he is closer to understanding my reasoning (stupid telepath). They think that maybe she's found closure like the other spirits that were locked in her Victorian home, but I don't believe that for a second. That hold she ripped, it was to somewhere and I don't know where that somewhere is. Heaven? Hell? I don't know and it's driving me insane. Her not being here, with me, is driving me insane. It's like her memories are haunting me even though I know her spirit is absent and that is the problem! My mind runs in circle, like a dog after its tail, but while the canine is laughing with its tongue flailing, I'm left with an almost constant headache and nightmare every night that leaves me sweaty and more exhausted than I was the night before.

And whenever it becomes to much I drive here, to this place that still vibrates with her, taunting my brain with flashback and memories of my third visit and me enjoying being in her presence even though it was ludicrous. I guess that whenever I come back my subconscious is hopping that this is all a bad dream. And that maybe, when I arrive I could open the door of the ramshackle house and step into her cool embrace. She would place her fingertips on my temples, trace my jawline, lean forward almost hesitantly, her sweet breath not an inch away from my lips, and then I would lean and-

I turn away from my wishful thinking, biting my lower lip and cursing myself for the tears leaking from the corners of my closed eyes. Sniffing and wiping my eyes harshly I start the car and pull out of where the drive would be, heading home in a haze similar to the one that dropped me off.

Back at home I slink through the front door and head to the kitchen to make a sandwich. I can hear my mom rummaging around in her "spell-room" and I am thankful that she won't see my eyes, still a bit red from crying, and try to comfort me. I don't need comfort, I need a plan.

I grab the far of jelly and loaf of bread and mechanically spoon the sugary substance onto the slices. My thoughts start to drift and the same questions as always start to swirl; "Where is she?" "Is she okay?" "How do I get her back?" Each one more desperate than the last. Without thinking I assemble my sandwich and take a bite.

The Saskatoon jelly glumly plopped in between two pieces of whole wheat bread squelches in my mouth, making me shudder. Looking down I notice that due to my dazing my sandwich was more jelly than bread and the spoon was still positioned in the jar, as though I was about to ladle more on any second. I sigh and put it back down on the granite tabletop.

This was the zombie version of me, a dazed sleep deprived Cas that no matter how much I try won't go away. I can't kill it, I can't re-kill it, it lingers and there is only one thing that I can imagine can help. The girl that haunted his town and now haunts my every thought is the key, the balm, the answer.

My love, Anna Korlov, Anna Dressed in Blood

**I know, kind of dark and sad but I feel like this is how Cas might have felt.**

**Please review or contact me with any suggestions or comments. All are welcomed.**

**Thanks,**

**-greenpineapple**


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